12
Sloane
They won’t letme have my car.
They won’t freaking let me have my car.
I knew I wouldn’t get my clothes. I knew I wouldn’t get my cat carrier.
But I didn’t expect that they wouldn’t let me have my car.
That’s what finally breaks me, and that’s why I’m now clinging to Davis’s back for dear life as he steers his motorcycle up the side of Anchor Mountain, with Peggy in a backpack carrier that Tillie Jean found for me.
There are fewer houses out here than on Thorny Rock Mountain, Cooper’s mountain, which is exactly what I want tonight.
I just need to beaway.
Once Nigel texted that he was arranging to stay at the inn tonight, it was clear that I couldn’t crash on Tillie Jean’s couch, or at Annika and Grady’s house, or at anyone else’s house so that I wouldn’t have to actually go home with Davis.
And part of me is relieved that I can’t stay with any of them.
I don’t want my friends to see just how rattled I am.
I know.
I know,okay?
Your friends are exactly who you should turn to when you’re rattled.
But it’s complicated.
Especially since I realized what’s missing at my house.
Thorny Rock’s coat.
It’s gone.
Tillie Jean’s aunt Bea had dropped it off with me the day before the wedding last week. I was supposed to take it in over the weekend, but I’ve been enjoying the last few days of warm enough weather to comfortably walk to work.
It felt like one of those things that should be driven and not exposed to the elements. Even warm elements.
And after the break-in on Saturday night, I thought anything new would be safer at my house than at the museum.
Because no one knew it was there.
Stupid stupid stupid.
Someone knew it was there.
I grip Davis tighter and lean my helmeted head against his back as he slows for a sharp switchback curve, taking comfort in the weight of Peggy and her carrier on my back, breathing in the chilly night air and the scent of pine and leather, unsure which is coming from nature, and which is coming from the man I’m wrapped around and his coat, which I’m still wearing.
It’s warm.
Enveloping me like a hug.
Giving me the sensation of safety no matter how much I don’t trustsafetyright now.
It’s not long before we arrive at the trailer deep in the woods.
